My Hour Glass

Life.

A vapor. 

Slipping as sand,

Thro the hour glass of life. 

Slipping and sliding,

Cascading thro the narrow opening of seconds and minutes and hours.

Tho slow it may seem,

One thing is constant. 

It is forever moving. 

One day the last grain of sand will slide thro the narrow opening. 

One day the time for that hour glass will be done. 

One day that will be me. 

Sometimes I try to catch the sand as it slides thro. 

Sometimes I try to reclaim the sand that has already passed.

And sometimes in frantic haste I clutch and grab and pant to preserve. 

All is futile. 

All without hope. 

The only choice I have that truly brings hope,

Is to give that hour glass to Him. 

To take this vessel I have,

Only one,

And place it the hands of the Maker.

To take my grains of sand,

This moment,

This child,

This task,

And by the grace of God,

Use every grain I have. 

That when that last grain falls thro the narrow opening,

I can say,

"By the grace of God, I have lived my best."